


Nota

by boredomsMuse



Series: October Prompts [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Gen, Witches, also theres dicussion of death, that is, the god death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredomsMuse/pseuds/boredomsMuse
Summary: Death is a subtle thing, most of the time.  It sneaks up slowly and slips away quietly, only ever seen by a few.  Even when it is not so slow, when it shows up loud and unexpected.  Even then most don’t notice.Miguel is not most.
Relationships: Death & Miguel, Miguel & Nota
Series: October Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951741
Kudos: 4





	Nota

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3: **Witch** /Cat  
> Today I choose to go with just one. This story is set in my Jessie Maytix series, although it's set pre-series. It's about a magical boy who died when he was two (he got better), and the life he lives when he makes it to Mage School.
> 
> Don't forget there's matching art, which you can find (amoung other things) on this [link of links.](https://linktr.ee/kailsmusings)

Death is a subtle thing, most of the time. It sneaks up slowly and slips away quietly, only ever seen by a few. Even when it is not so slow, when it shows up loud and unexpected. Even then most don’t notice.

Miguel is not most.

He jolts awake sometime after midnight, almost choking on the presence of Death. A quick, panicked glance around the room shows that he’s alone. Death has not come to tease him, as he has been so often inclined since discovering the powerful necromancer. 

This does not calm him. If anything panic grips Miguel harder, remembering a face he cannot name. 

Jumping from his bed, barely pausing to grab his winter robe, Miguel runs from the dorms and towards the gods presence. He scrambles to a stop at the outer courtyard, expecting to find Death hovering over a student.

He is not.

The god of Death, a dark figure of vague form, is kneeling over a bird.

“I wondered if you would notice me.” Death hums, not nearly as amused as usual. Miguel approaches slowly, his heart still pounding and the air gone from his lungs.

“What happened?” He asks, when he finally has the breath. He kneels before the bird - a crow.

“The same thing that always does when you mortals want power.” Death claims with a sigh. He doesn’t have a face, or any human features at all, and yet Miguel still thinks he’s frowning. “Animals are always the first to suffer. Crows and black cats especially, with the magical lot.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Miguel presses. The small creature, its life slowly (painfully) easing out it’s body, should not cause him so much grief. Death is the natural part of life, Miguel knows that. He knows that Necromancers, despite their reputation, do not exist to fight it. And yet…

Miguel does not want this crow to die.

He could help her, that nameless face. Miguel could only watch as she fell backwards, her blinding smile bleeding into terror. He does not want this crow to follow here.

“Even you cannot heal her, little godling.” Death says, watching with unformed, tired eyes as Miguel carefully lifts the crow into his palms. Miguel does not pause to believe him, does not let grief consume him.

“No.” He says.

“No?” Death returns, an eyebrow forming on the vagueness of his face so that he can raise it at Miguel.

“I’m not letting someone else die.” Miguel swears. Necromancy is the manipulation of soul, the strongest and purest form of magic that Miguel knows. It is not easy to manipulate another’s soul but Miguel doesn’t need to do so. He reaches out to the bird's soul with his own and he floods it with all the magic he can. The crow begins to float in his hands, his eyes begin to glow, and Miguel starts to lose himself in his magic. He should pull back, he knows he should pull back. But he doesn’t want to. The crow is starting to heal.

For the second time that night, Death holds him to awareness. An arm defines itself in the gods vagueness, gasping Miguel should and pulling him for the abyss of his mage. The god has formed a face to smile at him with.

“I knew you were powerful, little godling,” Death teases, “but I must admit I’m impressed.” The god looks down and Miguel follows his gaze.

“You’re okay!” The teen exclaims, smiling for the first time in months. The crow, standing strong and stable in his palms, squawks back at him.

“She is indeed, and now she’s bound to you.” Death confirms, pulling back. Miguel has the sense that he is standing. “She needs a name then, all things do.”

“How about… Nota.” Migueal suggests, despite his attempts to find a name that will not come to him. The crow, Nota, seems pleased enough with that.

“A wonderful pick.” Death hums. “Well little Nota, Miguel, I must be off. Clearly I am not needed here.” Death announces. “Do keep him careful, won’t you Nota? Even little godlings can drown.” Nota squawks in response and together they want the god dissolve into smoke.

“Drowning’s not so bad.” Miguel mumbles to himself, holding Nota a little closure. “You’d be worth drowning for Nota.” The crow doesn’t seem to agree, pecking his cheek without another shout.

Despite her displeasure, Miguel is pretty sure he’ll ignore Death’s warning.

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget about this [link of links](https://linktr.ee/kailsmusings) that I keep mentioning, it'd mean a lot if you checked it out.


End file.
